


Private Jenkins Takes A Stand

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 08:37:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14690424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: What do you do when your duty as a soldier conflicts with your duty as a person?  Private Jenkins, driver and assistant to Sergeant Major Rawlins at the Mansion, is about to find out when a moral dilemna lands squarely at his feet.   And, before it's all over, Lieutenant Craig Garrison is startled to find himself starting to give some thought to the question himself.





	Private Jenkins Takes A Stand

Private Jenkins had a moral dilemna. Never before had he had a difficulty in determining his proper course of action. His parents had been upright churchgoing people, and had taught him well the differences between what was right and what was wrong, and of course, there was never a question but that one always chose what was right. Now, however, he just wasn't sure what WAS right thing to do; "that's what they call it, isn't it? A moral dilemma? Well, I don't like it, and I hope never to have another one, but that doesn't help with the one I've got now!"

Private Jenkins had been assigned up to the Mansion, on what was supposed to be guard duty for Lieutenant Garrison's men, under the Sergeant Major, as well as driving Sergeant Major when he needed to go up to London to meet with the other NCO's for the special teams and such. It seemed like a bit of a waste to him, the guard duty; wasn't like those blokes didn't come and go pretty much as they pleased, when they weren't off doing whatever they did on those Missions of theirs. Still and all, it was his duty, and he'd always been taught that duty was duty and had to be honored. The Sergeant Major seemed a good man, and although he yelled a lot, well, who could blame him what with having to put up with all the foolishness from those men. Still, he was fair to the men assigned to them, kind after a fashion, and Private Jenkins didn't want to cause him any trouble.

The trouble came from several different things, and Private Jenkins was used to dealing with pretty much one thing at a time. Even in his father's place of business, the business he intended to go back to and run after the war, he'd liked to attend to one matter start to finish before going on to another. He wasn't one to go complicating things, but all of a sudden, that's how they'd gotten.

For one thing, those men up at the Mansion. Yes, he knew they were supposedly bad 'uns, from what he'd heard on Base, been in prison for all kinds of bad doings. He knew what each were supposed to have done, well, must have done cause you don't end up in prison unless you've done what they said, now did you? The tall snooty man with the accent, Actor, he supposedly was what they called a 'con man', could make you believe he was someone else, and had tricked a whole bunch of people out of their valuables. The shorter stockier one called Casino, well he was a rough one, to hear him talk, opened safes what didn't belong to him, drove fast cars, blew things up, and all. The dark one, he was a Red Indian, Chief he was; they said he'd killed a man, and he was always having that knife of his in his hand; real quiet he was, and Jenkins didn't turn his back on him if he could help it. The only Englishman was a small man, a good half a head shorter than most of the others, and more than that if measured against that Actor fellow. He was a pickpocket, they said, and could fiddle the cards and the dice, and was a whiz in getting up the sides of buildings and in windows; got in all kinds of trouble with that. Goniff, they called him; not his name, but seems that meant 'thief', so it was a good enough nickname for him, Jenkins thought.

The thing was, though, even though they were supposed to be bad 'uns, it just didn't seem that way, not once you'd been around them for awhile. Yes, they fought with each other sometimes, and got into a brawl at the pub now and again, but seems they were friends too, and really looked out for each other. They liked the company of the lasses at the pub, but never got out of hand with them, and the locals spoke of them all as if they were mischievious lads, not troublemakers. In fact, the locals held them in better regard than they did many of the soldiers, officers included, what came over from the Base to visit the village and the pub.

See, he'd have thought men like that would be difficult to deal with for a common soldier like him; when he'd first taken on the duty, he'd carried his rifle carefully, waiting for one of them to try him and his fellow guards. He kept thinking each day he'd be in a fight or worse. But it hadn't happened that way. Sure, there were times when they caught them leaving the grounds; more puzzling to him were the times they caught them coming back ONTO the grounds, usually toplofty from the pub. They were never belligerent or quarrelsome with him, though, just laughed about getting snagged. They gave the Sergeant Major a rough time, but nothing harmful, just lagging along on the obstacle course, or missing their shots on the firing range on purpose, or hiding his laundry, such things as that, just to get a rise out of him. 

Instead, he found himself listening to their stories, learning about wild plants from Chief, having Goniff show him card tricks. Casino bot him a drink in the pub, as an apology for giving him such a fright when they popped up out of nowhere on that last little excursion. Actor he didn't have much to do with, but the tall man treated him with courtesy when they met, and that counted for a lot, the Private thought.

Another part of the problem was that Lieutenant who ran the team, Lieutenant Garrison. He didn't act like the kinds of officers Jenkins was used to, not that he had much to do with officers anyway, not at his rank. Still, sometimes Jenkins thought the Lieutenant treated his men more like his father had treated him and his brothers, stern, always ready to point out where they needed to improve, pushing them to do better, but also letting them have a bit of fun now and again. He'd seen the officer hide a grin when they pulled some of their tricks, and even go toe-to-toe with some of the higher ups when he thought they'd not been treated fairly.

Those around the village said he was responsible for getting in the new doctor, Dr Riley, the one everyone liked ever so much better than that top lofty Dr Thomas, after the other had failed to treat his men properly, though others said it was the girl what done that, the one that lived in the far cottage. He took good care of them, as best he could, anyway, seeing as they were always going off doing things that had to be dangerous.

And they took good care of him, too, now. He'd seen the car pull up in the drive, and him being helped into the Mansion after getting hurt, heard them fussing at him about needing to sit down and rest, like the doctor told him, instead of being running around trying to get his work done. Seems like they considered him almost a friend, though they all called him Warden, which he knew was someone in charge of prisoners; seemed odd, but they seemed to mean it in an affectionate sort of way. 

The final part of the problem, though, was one of his own, Corporal Samson. You'd have thought if he was going to come down on anyone's side, it would have been on the side of his own Corporal. But Samson was a nasty one, always having to prove his own authority, even though none of the soldiers ever questioned it. Always pushing and shoving, when a simple word would have done the trick. Samson had a real taking toward the men up at the Mansion; called them trash, scum, and the like, always going on about the likes of them living in a place like that, never mind it was part of a nationwide program where the toffs who'd evacuated could ease their conscience and help their purse by leasing their property to the government; several of the special forces units were assigned to those various properties, since those units didn't mix so well with regular military types. The Corporal had tried picking fights with them in the pub, but seemingly the bartenders preferred them to the Corporal, and it was the Corporal who was asked to leave. That didn't make Samson think any better of the cons, he made that clear to one and all.

Well, Jenkins always knew you couldn't like everyone you came across, but he'd been taught that there was no reason you couldn't get along with someone, 'like' not coming into it, especially when it was someone higher in rank. He was supposed to just keep his mouth shut, follow orders, do his duty.

That's where the moral dilemmacame in. Recently, Private Jenkins had been given reason to believe Corporal Samson had upped the game, so to speak, from just talking bad about the men, to doing things to hurt them, and now planning to do more.

After Goniff had been hurt on the obstacle course, he had started to wonder. The story was that the wind had frayed some of the ropes, and the man had taken a bad fall. Well, yes, there'd been that storm a few days before, right enough, but he'd seen Samson on the obstacle course, up in a tree right where those ropes attached, the day before the small blond man had fallen. Maybe the Corporal had just been checking the rigging, though that wasn't something he'd been known to do, feeling something like that beneath his dignity, rather ordering one of the lower ranking men to do it if it needed doing, but if so, why hadn't he seen the damage and done something about it then? If it had been Actor or Casino, who were so much bigger than the slender Brit, he might not have been so puzzled, but surely if the ropes were so damaged as to part with the weight of the least of them, it should have been quite noticeable.

And Samson had seemed quite pleased that the man had been hurt, and even said something about that Dr Thomas in town being a friend of his, and the little bastard getting no comfort there! Too, seems whenever the team got back from a mission, if any of them had been hurt, Samson took satisfaction, and he made it a point to watch them, trying to find things he could report to the Sergeant Major to get them in trouble with the Lieutenant. 

Now, though, he was badly concerned. If all he had before was just knowing the Corporal was acting nasty like, and his own suspicions that he might have caused the accident, now he had something more. He'd seen the Corporal wait out of sight and then step into the way when Actor was rounding the blind curve of the obstacle course, causing the tall man to stumble and fall, and saw the Corporal 'accidentally' allow the butt of his rifle to strike the man in the back, hard from the looks of it, when getting him to his feet. Yelled at the man, too, blaming him for running into the Corporal, getting all red faced when barking it all out at the Sergeant Major, and the Lieutenant.

Then too, the one they called Chief usually ran a track thru the woods, in addition to the other workouts they got, and the fallen tree he used to cross a gully had been moved, just enough for it to become unstable, and the lad, for he wasn't much more than that, Jenkins thought after he'd come to know him better, had almost taken a nasty spill. The Corporal had been out there too, Jenkins knew.

No moves had been made against the others, not yet, but he heard Samson last evening laughing with one of his buddies from the base about maybe getting in a little 'rough and tumble' at work this week, and having just the right spot for it, that old tool shed across the way from the Mansion, and a choice of two likely ones to take it up with. Jenkins had heard the term before, sometimes to describe a brawl, sometimes to describe a hazing. Whatever, it didn't sound like something a Corporal should be doing!

He'd heard another term mentioned, too, one he hoped had more than one meaning, for he really didn't like thinking about such things, especially for someone he knew and rather liked. He also knew that, at heart, the Corporal was a coward; well, bullies were, weren't they. He'd targeted Actor, true enough, but that was made to look like an accident, and not something the tall man would be expected to fight about. This, though, seemed to Jenkins, only two of the men would be his likely targets, ones he thought he could overpower in a fight, the two smaller ones, Goniff and Chief. With that knife of his, he rather though Samson would pass over the Indian, but maybe he thought the boy wouldn't dare use it, for fear of being sent back to prison. He just didn't understand Samson enough to know WHAT he was thinking!

He found he was really worried; he didn't want any harm to come to the men who hadn't done anything to deserve it that he could see. He didn't think the Corporal should be using his authority for such things. But, he also didn't see how he could stop it. Samson wouldn't listen to him if he tried to argue him out of it; most likely write him up on charges instead. Going to the Sergeant Major or the Lieutenant just wasn't right, he thought; you don't go around the chain of command. Even if he did, that'd make it all official, and Jenkins had no proof, it wouldn't stop anything Samson had planned, and Samson would see he paid well and good for making trouble.

There were those two who'd done him no harm, but had a bad history. The Corporal who was his superior in rank, but a bully and mean. The men were highly trained, of course, but they wouldn't have their weapons with them, well except for that knife Chief carried everywhere; the Corporal would have his rifle or his pistol. They'd likely not feel they could use any weapons anyway, for fear of being sent back to prison. If he was right about the two Samson would pick on, they were both a lot smaller than Samson, Chief not so much as Goniff, but still by quite a bit. There was the chain of command. There was right and wrong, but it was all getting very mixed up in his mind. Yes, a moral dilemma, that's what this was. What was the moral thing to do, something that wouldn't create even a bigger dilemma? Whatever he did, he had to do it quickly, before Samson could make his move.

Jenkins thought of one person who might be able to help, if not help, at least to listen and maybe talk through his options with him. Normally he'd never think to take this sort of thing to a woman, but he knew a few things about this woman that seemed to make it maybe alright, and he was at a loss where else he might turn.

First, he'd recognized her on one of the trips up to London with the Sergeant Major; she lived on the outskirts of the village, in a cottage, he'd seen her abouts there, but seemingly she was what they called an 'independent', someone who did Missions just like the men up at the Mansion, but not part of a team, not that the village knew that; he wasn't sure Garrison knew that either, or his men. She wasn't part of the military, but knew a fair amount about it. Word was she was the one the lads had gone to, just like some of the locals did, more than once, when they were hurt and Actor wasn't around, including when Goniff had been hurt on the obstacle course, which meant she must think at least somewhat kindly toward them. He'd seen her having a drink with them in the pub, too.

But the main thing, taken into consideration after all the rest, was that he knew the little pickpocket made himself pretty much at home in her garden; no, he wasn't supposed to know that, and certainly would never say anything to anyone; wouldn't do her reputation a bit of good, he was sure. Still, he'd watched the slender man make his way over the stone wall at the back of her house more than once, {"and what's wrong with using the gate, I wonder?"} and heard a cheery greeting given by both, and then sometimes music and her voice singing, {"and a right fair voice it was, too!"} No harm seemed to have come from his visits, that Jenkins could see, but he was pretty sure that would not have been everyone's opinion, and gossiping was one of the many things his parents didn't hold with, so he simply didn't. All in all, he had a feeling she could help with his problem.

He had his cap in his hand as he knocked at her cottage door, hoping she'd be there and not off on some mission or traveling or whatever, and gave a sign of relief when she answered his knock, having remembered too late that she was known to not answer this one, only the back door.

"Yes, Private?"

"Miss, you probably don't know me, I work up at the Mansion, and I'm the driver for the Sergeant Major, so I, well, Miss, there's a problem, please, can we talk a bit?" Now that he was here, he hoped mightily that he was doing the right thing. She didn't seem anything but a mild featured young woman, dressed in long skirts and soft blousy top, and now he wasn't sure but maybe he'd mistaken what he'd seen in London, now he wasn't sure this was the right thing to do at all. 

She looked at him hard, considering, "yes, come around the side and thru the back gate. I'll meet you there." He seemed harmless enough, but she wasn't of a mind to let a stranger into her house; she never did. If he wanted to talk, the small table and chairs in the shaded part of the garden would do just as well. And if he'd come to mind her business, she thought, she could send him on his way with a sharp word or two.

He nodded, and made his way to the side and into the garden. {"Smart of the lassie, privacy but not inside where trouble might come on sudden like,"} he thought, not that he'd be one to give her any trouble like that. He sat, nodded his thanks as she poured out a cup of tea for him, and took a deep sigh, thinking of where to begin.

She seemed to know his hesitation for what it was, for she gave a small smile, "at the beginning is always a good place to start, Private," and so he did. As he talked, her smile disappeared, to be followed by a face showing her intense interest in his tale. 

"So you can't really go to the Sergeant Major or anyone, I understand that. Why help in any case, Private? Why get involved?" she asked with her face now expressionless, her voice even more so.

He looked at her, his face and eyes full of dismay, wondering if maybe she didn't believe him, or if he'd been wrong, the lads meant nothing to her, that she not care? He looked again, catching a glimpse of something deep in her eyes; reassured,{"No, I think it's more she's testing me, making sure I'm not setting some kind of a snare, or just spinning a wild tale."}

"I know it sounds daft, but it's that worried I am. I don't like what I think he's done, nor what I know he's done, and I'm that worried about what he intends. I don't know what he'll really do, but that phrase 'rough and tumble', and then that other one he used . . ."

She frowned, "Private, you told me of the 'rough and tumble' bit, what other phrase were you referring to?"

She was startled when he blushed, "he said something about getting himself 'a bit of the rough', and the only way I've ever heard that, well . . ."

She sat back, and drew in a deep breath, "well, Private it can have a couple three meanings, but I'm afraid none of them bode well for the person involved."

She'd seen Samson before, big, powerful mean bastard if she remembered aright. The Private was right, she knew; that type would go after the ones he felt he had the most advantage over. It would be Chief, the youngest of the lot, or Goniff, the smallest. The thought of either of them in Samson's clutches made her furious, furious and sick to her stomach. She had a feeling they'd both had more than enough unwelcome hands on them.

She thought hard and fast. The answer to this had to be undertaken BEFORE Samson got his hands on them, before he made another move to hurt them, and it had to have a good chance of getting Samson away from them long term. She could get him out of the picture totally, but the Clan preferred she kept such things to a necessary minimum; she'd see if this qualified for an exception, or if she could handle it without having to dispose of a body afterwards. Not that she was unwilling, if needs be, not at all, but still . . .

She sat back into her chair, thoughtful, while Jenkins sat sipping his tea, patiently waiting for her to take his moral dilemna and make it her own. Soon, she smiled, and said, "Private, this is what we need to do," and he listened eagerly, nodding as she explained.

***  
Chief was in the Common Room, at the window ledge as he preferred when he frowned and leaned closer to look across the property to a pathway over by the garden shed. He saw Goniff making his usual quick scurrying way along the path, ducking and looking around to be sure no one was watching from the main buildings, then headed on. Absently he thought, {"wonder what mischief he's up to now,"} then catching himself with a start. {"GONIFF?"} Tilting his head, he said it out loud "Goniff?" and jerked his head around to look back into the room, at the same time as he was answered, "yeah, Chiefy, wat cha need?" from the little Cockney at the card table. He turned his head back toward the window, quickly, in time to see Samson step out of the shadow of the trees, moving rapidly, reaching out to grab - who?? - and shove them face first, up against the shed, roughly,

"Look!" he said sharply, bringing the others to the window. The others looked at the scene, Actor and Casino turning to look with wide eyes at Goniff standing next to them, Goniff frowning down at the path {"if that's me, then what am I doing up 'ere?"} They heard a commotion in the hall downstairs, with someone, one of the guards, calling wildly for the Sergeant Major.

"'Ere now, what's all the fuss?" the Sergeant Major barked as he came out of the office, Garrison close behind him. 

"It's Corporal Samson, Sirs, I don't know what's got into him, but he's going to do harm, he is; you have to stop him, Sirs, quickly!"and turned to run back outside, but, oddly enough, glanced up the stairs to the men, and motioned a quick jerk of his head for them to come too. He led the way, the NCO and Garrison following, the cons right behind them.

It was a lurid scene when they arrived,Samson flat on his back, Goniff standing over him, thought Garrison, but with a quick glance, Garrison saw that Goniff was just at his right side, along with the other guys! Then, the figure moved, seemed to collapse into itself and reform, now except for the height and khakis, nothing at all like Goniff; his eyes must really be playing tricks on him! Then, in one rapid movement, the person, whoever they were, grabbed up a pitchfork standing against the shed and thrust it downward toward Samson, who let out a wild cry!

"Just what is the meaning of this," the Sergeant Major roared. "You, hold still there! Corporal Samson, explain!"

"I caught him up to no good, that damn pickpocket, he tricked me, knocked me down with some of those commando moves they've taught this lot, and then he tried to knacker me, you saw, with that bloody pitchfork! Just lucky he has bad aim!" Samson is yelling. They looked down, the tines of the pitchfork just on either side of his privates, catching just a few threads of his trousers, forced down so hard the cross bar was holding him to the ground.

"I'll say he had bad aim," muttered one of the guards who'd now reached the scene; "almost got him, though," earning him a hard look from Sergeant Major. Obviously the Corporal was not a great favorite among the guards. 

They turned to the figure in khakis standing there, now with cap in hand, looking down with a considering look on her face. Garrison wondered, "{why did I think she looked anything like Goniff? That's just crazy. She's shorter, obviously female, red pouty lips, filling out the khaki top like it was at least a size too small."} The young woman held herself in a very feminine stance, red hair gleaming in the sunshine. Actor, on the other hand, squinted at her thoughtfully, watching her eyes which held an unhealthy amount of satisfaction. 

"Miss O'Donnell?" the Sergeant Major said in amazement, "What is going on, Miss? What are you doing here?"

"Good day, Sergeant Major. Major Richards said you'd set up a really fine obstacle course here, and I didn't think you'd mind my taking advantage. I flagged down your Private Jenkins when I saw him passing, and had him bring me thru the gates. He was showing me to the course, when your Corporal, for some reason," as she frowned down at him with pursed lips, "thought to accost me. I see Private Jenkins went for help; thank you, Private," she smiled and gave a single nod of appreciation at the Private, who blushed as she thanked him. She looked back down at the open jawed Corporal still on the ground and frowned severely.

"He told me to get to the shed, we had 'business' to take care of; he grabbed me and threw me face forward against the wall. That's when he told me he was ready for some 'rough and tumble', with a 'bit o'the rough' after that. I don't really know what he meant by ANY of that, but I knew I wasn't interested in any case, and told him so. Told him quite clearly, "No", and to "Leave off". He didn't, I wasn't looking to be manhandled any more, and there you have it. I must admit, it's not exactly what I'd have expected from one of your men, Sergeant Major," she said in a puzzled yet admonishing tone, with raised eyebrows, looking at the appalled NonCom.

"No, it wasn't like that!" shouted Samson. "It wasn't her, it was him, that little pickpocket of Garrison's up to mischief; I don't know how they pulled it off, but I'm telling you . . ."

"Don't you think that's a bit much? If you're going to make something up, you'd probably do better with something like, oh, stress of duty, or temporary insanity, don't you think?" as she reached out to grab the pitchfork and yank it upward in one smooth move. She handed it off to one of the guards who took it, openmouthed.

"I mean, Sergeant Major, do I really look like a man?" They all looked at her, the deep red hair braided in a coronet atop her head, lips full and red {"they should be, anyway, the way I've been pressing and biting at them the past couple of minutes just for that effect!"} the top buttons of her tight khaki top somehow having come undone, showing the half moons of the tops of her full breasts and much of the shadowed crevice between, standing with one hip tilted, the knee to the other leg slightly turned and bent, in the oldest of all the modeling positions, smiling at them, obviously very much a woman.

He gulped, "No, Miss, not at all, Miss. Please accept my apologies, I'll take care of this."

She became very still, saying in a very stern voice, "I do hope so, Sergeant Major. Perhaps a long tour of duty somewhere he'd be less likely to get into trouble, after a stay in solitary in the Stockade to think over his transgressions?"

The Sergent Major and the guards, except for Jenkins, hustled the belligerant, protesting Corporal off to find a jeep to get him on his way to the stockade.

"Perhaps you'll let us show you over the obstacle course, since you made a special trip," said Actor, with the Lieutenant and the other guys turning to look at him incredulously.

She gave a tiny smile, and replied, "if it's not too much trouble."

Private Jenkins looked at her, "Would you be needing me along, Miss?" He'd brought her into this, brought her here, wouldn't leave her on her own unless it's what she wanted.

She smiled, "I'll be fine, Private, and I did mean it, thank You, for everything!," she stressed. He blushed, nodded and went on his way.

"On the other hand, perhaps a drink might be more appropriate, more conducive to conversation?" she suggested.

With the men in full agreement, with everyone trooping back into the house, as if he couldn't hold it back any longer, "Meghada, what's all this about, then? You'd no more come 'ere to run that bloody obstacle course than you'd ask for a beer down at The Doves, or snick a cigarette from me!" Goniff burst out, gaining his own incredulous looks from the Lieutenant and his mates for his more than familiar manner of speaking to her, though he knew her better than they did, they knew, from his forced stay in her cottage after his injury.

They were on the way into the Library, now, and Actor said, firmly, "let me see it, now. And the voice, too!"

She'd taken the lead, though behind Garrison who wasn't saying much of anything yet, trying to wrap his mind around this totally bizarre event, the others trailing behind her, and she took the opportunity of no one facing her front view to re-fasten not only the khaki top, but the built in, specially made very tight breast band that compressed her fullness down to almost nothing; it was effective, though certainly not comfortable. She now paused, tucked the cap back on her head, hiding her hair.

"Actor, what are you talking about," Garrison grumbled, stepping back to glare at his second in command as she passed by him, and then his eyes widened, as did the others, as the figure moving in front of them, facing away, seemed to change. A totally different set to the shoulders, the waist settled into the hips in a different fashion, neck arched, head tilted, - the figure moved forward, in a very familiar, now uncanny, fashion, quick, yet slightly furtive. She, he, whoever, turned, face where shadow concealed the details, manner and stance so familiar they'd not have questioned it at first glance. They all stood thre, in shock, no one more so than Goniff.

"And the voice??" Actor demanded, only to hear in a familiar low rasp, "I said No, didn' I. Leave off!" They all stared in disbelief. Recovering quickly, Goniff let out a low laugh, and walked confidently up to her, clucking her under the chin with his index finger as he addressed her in a matching low raspy voice, "best leave off THAT, luv, you'll get a sore throat doing that for long. And what on earth 'ave you done 'ere, you'll do yourself a mischief for sure," as he reached out his hand toward the fastenings of her tunic top.

"Goniff!" Garrison roared, and he drew back, blushing, having forgotten where he was, and the girl laughed.

"Never mind, I'll do it myself,"as she turned away to flick two fingers at the buttons and fastenings, turning back showing the tunic once again full to bursting. Casino laughed, as he took in the difference in the before and after effect, "think you might need a size or two larger next time."

Chief had been very quiet til now, taking everything in, bringing the conversation back to its beginnings, "why?"

So she told them about what Private Jenkins had suspected, had discovered, had feared, and about his bringing his moral dilemna to her. Garrison raged at her, "If HE didn't think he could go to the Sergeant Major, or to me, you surely should have! What you did was reckless, dangerous, do you know what could have happened? WHY do it this way?"

She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, and frankly, his men were looking at both of them in a similar way. The whole thing sounded crazy to them.

In an offhand fashion she replied, "well it was the best I could think of on the spur of the moment, other than slitting the bastard's throat on the sly, but then you're left dealing with a body, and besides I really try not to do things like that so near to home," as jaws again dropped. Goniff ducked his head, hiding the small grin he couldn't seem to overcome; let them think she was just making noise; he'd a strong feeling she was capable of doing just that, and since when did the thought of someone doing such a thing please him? Maybe because she'd been willing to do it for him?

"And this was easier than bringing the problem to me, or warning the men?" he snapped. 

She was going to start losing her temper soon, she feared, so she took another sip of the not-so-good bourbon. "Remind me to get you a better bottle than that, Lieutenant, that's really barely drinkable. Yes, well, supposed I'd warned the men and left it at that; yes, they'd have teamed up to offset trouble, but eventually, his opportunity would come, and when Samson made his move, whatever happened, who'd you think your military types would have believed? A fast trip back to the States, back behind bars, for making trouble, do you think?" she asked sharply. 

Frustrated, unwilling to admit she was right about that, though she really was and he knew it, Garrison ran his fingers through his blond hair and started to pace, then turned to face her. "Then why not come to me! Let me deal with it!"

Now, she thought long and hard, be honest with him, at least up to a point, or try to placate him? No, she'd had enough of being nice, the adrenaline was wearing off and she was getting pissy, her usual after action response!

"Well, you're an officer then, aren't you," she said, glancing down through her eyelashes, then up to look straight at him. He was shocked at the sheer distrust in the brown eyes looking into his. "I didn't know how you'd react. Especially," she stopped, paused, licked her lips in thought, then with resolve started again, "these men, they're cons, I didn't know how you'd react to the threat. Some officers I've known would've ignored it, done nothing to protect them, some would've found a way to enjoy the show, others maybe even found a way to join in."

At the look of pure horror on his face, and the protestations coming from the others, she relented, and said more softly, with a deliberate racheting back of her own pent up anger, "in any case, it would still have been a case of their word against the Corporal's, and saying their word would have been enough for you, would it have been for your superiors?"

"It ain't like that, 'Gaida," using a diminutive he only used on rare occasions, when they were alone and when he was being very serious, never minding the very odd looks he was once again getting from the others, "the Warden, 'e does all right by us, as best as they let 'im anyways. The 'igher ups, now, yer probably right about 'ow they'd've seen it, but not the Warden," Goniff told her earnestly.

Only now did he realize that during all their hours together, while he'd told her perhaps quite a bit about his mates, he hadn't said much of anything about Garrison. Obviously not enough for her to understand the rather complicated relationship the American officer had with his team of cons. Possibly because of his own rather complicated set of feelings where the man was concerned, he admitted to himself. She looked over at him, met his earnest eyes, then nodded acceptingly. {"Odd, when did I come to trust him so thoroughly, without question? No matter, seems I do, though."}

"Well, you've been vouched for, it seems," with a earnest smile. And in a softer voice, "Forgive me, Lieutenant, I apologize for doubting you. There was really no time to come up with something else, Jenkins thought Samson was going to make a move right away. As for any danger to me, you could ask Major Richards if you like, but I can usually handle myself and I, at least, didn't have to hesitate about taking whatever action was needed, nor worry about any repercussions; we had it set that Jenkins would fetch the Sergeant Major immediately, and the other guards were within shouting range, my very female screaming range. Even if any of them would have thought to hold back if they'd thought it was Goniff in trouble, which Jenkins assures me wouldn't have likely been the case, them not being right bastards like Samson, they'd never have seen Goniff there; it only takes a quick movement or two to turn back to," she motioned with her hand starting at her head moving downward, "this. He'd have had no excuse for his actions, my word would easily carry over his, believe me."

"Why Goniff?" asked Actor.

"Do you mean why Samson would have targeted him, or why I chose him to mimic? Samson was a bully, and a coward; he'd not want to take on anyone he thought might cause him any harm in return; it only stands to reason he'd most likely chose Chief or Goniff, the two he'd think he had the physical advantage of," adding with a smile at both of the men she'd mentioned, "at least, in his own mind," hoping to placate any wounded male pride.

"And there's the sheer practicality of it, you know. I know Goniff best, enough I knew I'd be able to handle a brief impersonation if I could keep my face from easy view, under what I thought would be a fast spur of the moment move by Samson. I figured he'd take the first available opportunity, so I gave him that opportunity; something like this, it's best to get it dealt with as soon as possible, otherwise there's just too much chance for it all going pear-shaped. I knew I'd have to make the switch fast. I haven't the height, nor the complexion to mimic Chief, not without time to switch in and out of proper makeup and different shoes. I felt it fortunate he DIDN'T select you or Casino; I've not the bulk nor the height for Casino, and for you, I'd have had to find a pair of stilts," she grinned up at him comfortably, while the men all laughed.

Garrison heaved a deep sigh; he knew he should probably look into this aforeto unsuspected ongoing familiarity between Goniff and this exceedingly uncomfortable woman; he knew he should investigate her connection to Major Richards; he knew he should reprimand the Private for his actions (or should that be thank Private Jenkins??); he knew where his duty lay, well, sort of, maybe. In that moment of introspection, he realized he and Private Jenkins had a great deal of common. {"What was it he called it? A moral dilemma, right, that's what it was alright."}

Then he looked around, at Goniff who'd been deliberately injured by Samson's prior actions, at Actor who had struck on the track, at Chief who had barely escaped injury on the trail, even Casino and Chief again, if you figure in Samson's doctor friend refusing to treat them, then back at Goniff and Chief who had been threatened again, had been in danger from the man and his plans. Then at the young woman who'd taken it upon herself to get involved, to prevent any further harm. {"Maybe not, no, maybe not."} He lifted the bottle questioningly, "Another round, everyone, of this barely drinkable bourbon?" 

****

She didn't know what had happened on the mission, but the guys weren't in charity with each other when they returned. She was smart, she picked up on the little things - like when Actor refused to even speak to the others in the Common Room last night - like when Chief snarled something at Goniff and backhanded him so hard he went straight back over the table and into the wall - like when Goniff picked himself up and dove in swinging - like Casino just sitting there drinking during it all, scowling at them all, not even joining in the resulting fight, just moving his self and his glass out of the way of the flying bodies. 

See, she could pick up on the little things. Now that she had that mastered, she thought absently, she was going to try practicing 'being subtle'; she'd been told recently that she needed to work on that. In fact, Kevin Richards had mentioned that quite forcefully just last week, after she'd compared one of his fellow officers, to his face of course, to a Babylonian whore with a severe case of crotch itch still servicing clients. Well, to her it had seemed apt; the bastard had rucked up two separate missions by not bothering to suss out the correct intel, but was STILL being allowed to put together mission briefings! That was where her mind was when the Lieutenant stormed in. Not so much on the fight going on around her.

Chief and Goniff were still going at it hard, both had taken damage to the face, and a few hard blows elsewhere. Goniff was tilted a little forward like he'd caught a good one to the stomach, and both men were panting and shouting. Garrison overshouted everyone, yelling at them for fighting, at Actor and Casino for not stopping them earlier. 

She continued looking on the shelves for the reference book she'd come to the Mansion to find. For some reason, that seemed to piss off the Lieutenant, "And you, you're just going to stand there? Not going to jump in and deal with it? Figured you'd be looking for the closest pitchfork!"

Everyone turned to stare at him. Chief and Goniff looked at each other, then over at her, then back at the Warden, puzzled.

Her eyes crinkled as she fought her laughter. "Deal with what, Lieutenant, a family quarrel? Besides, they're your kids, you deal with it."

See, she could be subtle; she hadn't even added what else went thru her mind, "I'm not their mother, you know." Thankfully, no she wasn't!


End file.
